5 years ago
The day of her wedding was sunny. A good sign, her grandmother had said.
She felt beautiful. She was beautiful. Her grandmother cried softly at the sight of Vira in her ceremonial dress. Vira’s dress was simple: white with a vest embroidered in vibrant colors. Three rows of red beads adorned her collarbone, and atop her head sat the most exquisite flower crown she’d ever seen, lush with cornflowers, poppies, and dandelions interwoven with green leaves. It brought out her eyes. The warm aroma of wedding chalka, baked fresh that morning, filled the house. She left her hair loose, falling down on her shoulders.
Outside, the young women of the village surrounded her, their voices rising in a harmonious chant. The melody carried on the breeze like a blessing, a prelude to a life of joy and love.
They made their way thorough the village in the direction of the clearing where most important events took place. Aden had successfully completed his trials, though he was left with a scar on his face that cut through his left eye. Vira found it strangely alluring, a mark of his strength that only deepened her affection for him.
The entire tribe had gathered, forming a semi-circle. At the center stood Aden’s father, solemn and proud, his skin painted with intricate symbols of rank and ceremony. Aden stood beside him, his body covered with new tattoos signifying his rank and wedding painting on his skin. Vira’s skin also bore ceremonial markings on top of her tattoos. Symbols for prosperity, longevity, fertility ad protection mixed among different colors of the paints. She felt as though she carried the blessings of the entire village on her shoulders.
Even the sky seemed to open completely. She felt a lump form in her throat as tears welled in her eyes. Recently, it seemed as if she couldn’t stop crying—everything moved her. And this moment was no exception.
She walked up to Aden and stood before his father, who wore a proud expression and smiled at her warmly. He, too, was dressed in celebratory attire, his skin adorned with intricate blue paint that marked his status and reverence for the occasion.
Her grandmother stood close by, watching her with a quiet, tearful smile. When their eyes met, Vira couldn’t help the flood of emotion that overtook her. She smiled wider, unable to stop the tears of happiness that spilled down her cheeks. She quickly brushed them away, but then caught a glimpse of Aden, stifling his laughter. His eyes were filled with adoration as he gazed at her, his smile wide. Vira felt his love for her like a warm blanket, a shield against everything bad in the world.
“Members of the tribe, followers of the Mother,” Aden’s father began, his voice steady and powerful. “My son has fulfilled his destiny and is ready to take on the responsibility of his legacy as your chief, the one who will lead you. He will replace me in this difficult task. And just as I was entrusted with this duty, and could not fulfill it without the help of my beloved companion, who is dearly missed...” Vira felt her eyes sting a little, the sun was even brighter today, unusually for this time of the year,
“...so too will my son be supported by his beloved,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. Vira blinked a couple of time, but the stinging remained. She tried to discreetly rub her eye a little to get some relief. “They will guide each other, help each other through difficult times, and form a union of peace and mutual respect. A love that will grow, just as our tribe will grow.”
The stinging returned, sharper this time, and she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing her eyes again. Aden shot her a concerned glance, his brow furrowed. Aden’s father paused, his gaze flicking to her briefly, but then he carried on.
“We are here today to celebrate the union of these two souls, who have chosen to become one—”
His words were abruptly interrupted by a shriek from the crowd, cutting through the air.
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"Look at her eyes!" a woman shrieked. "Look at her eyes and tell me she’s normal!" It was Alina, her grandmother's cousin, pointing an accusing finger at Vira. "She’s a mage!"
A murmur spread through the crowd creating the tension in the air.
"I saw with my own eyes how she reacted to light three days ago," Alina continued, her voice growing more frantic. "She kept turning her eyes away from the light since then. At first, I thought she was just tired—poor girl—but I looked closer, and trust me, there’s evil in that girl! Look at her eyes, she has a blue ring around her irises!"
She looked expectantly at the chief. Vira stood frozen, unable to speak, the words feeling surreal as the sting in her eyes intensified.
"What are you talking about you fool?" Vira’s grandmother demanded, her voice shaking with anger. "Have you lost your mind? This is Vira, the girl you’ve known since birth. She’s as good as they come! She’s no mage!"
Her grandmother hobbled toward Vira and grabbed her hand tightly. Vira felt the strength of her grip, but it wasn’t comforting. It only fed her fear.
"Alina, what are you talking about?" Vira asked, her tone steady despite the tumult of emotions inside her.
"Those are grave words you speak." Finally, the chief addressed Alina. The entire tribe fell silent, waiting for him to continue.
"Vira has always been a great girl," he said, his voice firm. "A great woman. My son chose her as his companion. I have never had any doubt about her character."
"I’m not a mage," Vira said, trying to laugh off the tension, but her voice faltered as the air around her grew heavier. "I’ve always followed the ways of the Mother of the Crops. You know that. You visit us often."
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"Yes, I’ve been keeping an eye on you all these years," Alina sneered. "And I’ve always been suspicious of you. Always wandering around, who knows what you’ve been doing alone in the forest?"
"I’ve never gone alone," Vira replied quickly. "I was with Aden, or other members of the tribe."
"Can you prove it?" Alina shot back, her eyes gleaming with accusation. "I’ve seen you so many times, going alone into the woods. Who knows what kind of magic you’ve been practicing there? And then, just one day, out of nowhere, Aden— the chief’s son— announces that he’s chosen you as his companion? How are we to know you didn’t bewitch him with your powers?"
Some of the people in the crowd nodded, their faces filled with doubt.
"That’s not true!" Vira protested. "We’ve been friends for a long time. Everyone knows this."
"They have been acquainted for a long time," the chief interjected, cutting off the argument. Alina turned to him, her eyes filled with frustration.
"Then look at her eyes," she demanded. "Look at them and tell me I’m wrong."
Silence fell over the crowd, and Vira could hardly believe what was happening. The accusations were absurd, and she couldn’t fathom what the old woman hoped to gain from such lies. They would inevitably be exposed, and Alina would face the consequences for her wrongful and malicious claims.
The chief studied Vira for a long moment, his gaze unwavering. Then he gestured to his warriors. Two men stepped forward and approached her.
"Leave her alone!" Vira’s grandmother cried, pushing them away. But another woman, one of the warriors, held her back.
The men grabbed Vira’s arms, pulling them behind her back as they held her still. The chief approached her with a grave look.
"It’s fine, Ma," Vira said, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. "I’m not a mage, everything will be alright."
She threw a quick look at Aden, but he said nothing, his face impassive. Wasn’t he going to speak up? Didn’t he care?
The chief stood before her, silent for a long moment, his face unreadable. They rarely spoke directly to one another, but she had never sensed any animosity between them—he had never opposed her relationship with his son.
"Do you see now?" Alina cackled, her voice filled with satisfaction.
"Let her go!" Her grandmother struggled against the grip of the other warrior, but she couldn’t free herself. Vira’s chest tightened as she realized the strain on her grandmother’s legs.
The tribe members gathered around, peering closely at Vira’s eyes. A hush fell over them as one of the older men spoke.
"It could just be the natural coloration of her eyes," he said softly. "Some people have darker rings around their irises, a shade of blue that’s only slightly darker than the rest of their eyes. It doesn’t have to be magic."
"But it could be," the old hag’s voice dripped with malice. "There is no place for the root of evil among us. She’s tainted, unnatural. She should be killed."
Vira fought against the hold of the two men. "Like hell I am!" She managed to break free for a moment, but they quickly restrained her again. "I’m not a mage! I don’t know anything about magic! I’ve always followed our ways!"
"You must have strayed from them," someone in the crowd called out.
"Magic comes to those who seek it," another voice added. "It may not be your fault, child, but it shows what’s inside you. It can’t be helped."
"Stop that!" Her grandmother shouted, her voice trembling with desperation. "This is Vira! You all know her since she was born—she’s not a mage! She’s my granddaughter!"
"Take her to the cave and guard her while we decide what to do with her," the chief commanded. The two men grabbed Vira again and began pulling her toward the caves, the place where prisoners and accused were held. A pang of fear shot through her chest.
"Aden," she turned toward him, her voice trembling, but he didn’t speak, only watched as she was dragged away, the cold shadows of the caves waiting ahead.
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Two days. Vira had spent two endless days in the damp, cold darkness of the cave. The only break in her isolation came when the door creaked open for her meals. The boy who brought them barely stepped inside, avoiding her gaze as though she were a wild animal. She remembered helping him climb down from a tree when he was younger, his cries of fear turning to gratitude when she coaxed him to safety. Now, he couldn’t even look at her.
The cave was hellish. Her tangled hair clung to her neck, her skin chilled from the rough stone walls. Through the cracks in the wooden door, she could just make out the faint light of night outside. It seemed like another day would pass without news, without answers. She let out a sigh and leaned back against the wall, only to feel a sharp jab. Turning, she found one of the gemstones embedded in the stone—those precious stones that had given her tribe a home and a purpose, the very reason they settled in this unforgiving land. It was laughable.
They thought she was a mage?
The past two days all she could do was think. Why had Alina accused her, when she clearly wasn’t a mage? Jealousy, she had reasoned at first, but what of Aden’s father? Why had he gone along with such an outrageous claim? If he didn’t want her as his son’s companion, why had he never opposed their union outright? This wasn’t ignorance; he was too shrewd to believe such a baseless accusation. Was it a ploy to maintain control over Aden? To undermine her influence?
The questions clawed at her, but one more sinister thought loomed at the edges of her mind, threatening to take hold. Would they kill her? Execution for alleged magic hadn’t happened in her lifetime, but the old stories still lingered—tales of mages corrupting the land, of purges in the name of purity. She shook her head sharply, as though to dislodge the thought. No. They wouldn’t go that far. Not her tribe, her family. Families support each other. Aden wouldn’t let it happen. He wouldn’t.
The door creaked again, and her heart jumped. A shadow entered, and she squinted into the faint light. Someone reached down, gripping her arm and pulling her to her feet.
“Time to go,” Elise’s voice came, low and curt. “They’ve decided what to do with you.”
Elise, one of the warriors, held her firmly. Vira had expected a crowd, perhaps the entire tribe gathered to witness the verdict. Instead, there were only a few figures waiting outside: the chief, two more warriors, Alina, and two strangers. Something was wrong. Outsiders were never allowed here.
The gag in her mouth silenced her questions, and Elise’s grip kept her from struggling. She had years of training over Vira.
“That’s the girl,” Aden’s father said, his voice detached as he gestured to the strangers.
The taller man frowned, studying her with an expression that made her skin crawl. “She’s a bit old to manifest magic, no?”
“She’s a mage,” Alina hissed, her tone dripping with conviction. “There’s no doubt.”
Vira’s eyes pleaded with Aden’s father. Surely, he would stop this madness, call out Alina’s lies. But he didn’t meet her gaze. He stared past her, his face impassive.
Elise shoved her forward, delivering her into the taller man’s waiting hands. The stench of him hit her like a wave, and she fought back a gag.
“You won’t need this bracelet where you’re going,” Alina sneered, slipping the piece of jewelry from Vira’s wrist. Her voice was devoid of sympathy as she added, “I will pray for you.”
Vira struggled, twisting against the rough grip of the men, but it was futile. They dragged her to a waiting horse and hoisted her onto it without care. As the riders moved out, the familiar land blurred into shadows behind her, the faces of her tribe receding into darkness. The last thing she saw was Alina’s cold, satisfied smile.